


The Sublime Machine

by thedastardly



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: M/M, Warming Up Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 08:30:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1976103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedastardly/pseuds/thedastardly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon cannot say anything to explain why Kieren's body is changing. He cannot speak the words: oh, oh, oh, my love, I cannot say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sublime Machine

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Idealny mechanizm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4243983) by [lilyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyan/pseuds/lilyan)



> thanks to langolier-s for the beta

I.

 

The attempt on their lives is barely foiled. 

 

Returning to Amy's bungalow was the first mistake, Simon is sure, when he opens the door and is attacked almost instantly by one of the ULA faithful. He can see the light from a lamp inside the sitting room reflecting off the shiny blade that he holds, tight in his hand, attempting to thrust it into Simon's throat. He knows he is a traitor, knows that he is a wanted man, and that Kieren is in danger as well because Simon has told them all that he is the first and the last. Kieren, who had fallen back when the man had shoved him to get at Simon's neck.

 

The sequence of events is a blur, scuffling and thrashing over the threshold, over a table, breaking a chair. This man has been sent to hurt him, or Kieren, or the both of them, and he uses anything he can grab to prevent it. A heavy, antique Tiffany lamp is in his grasp, still plugged into the wall socket when he hits him with it.

 

Afterward, Simon is shaking, out of breath, black blood spread across the bungalow floor. His hands are stained with it. He drops the lamp he had used to brain the would-be assassin to the floor. His foot is twitching in the broken lamplight. The heavy glass shade of the lamp is shattered into pieces but the lightbulb still emits a whisper of a glow.

 

Kieren curses, _shit,_ over and over again behind him, panicking. Simon stands and wheels around. He crosses the floor in two steps, takes Kieren's pale face in his hands, smearing black on his cheeks as he holds his face steady in his hands.

 

He pushes Kieren's hair away from his face, streaking more of the blood on him. When he looks at him, his mouth is a serious line, lips tight, and his eyes are wide. His hair is slightly out of place. He studies Kieren's pin prick pupils with the kind of intensity he remembers being studied with, too. The fruit of their work, ripe and falling from the tree.

 

They had taken so much from him; his dignity, his humanity, his true self. Simon had replaced it with the words of some faceless prophet, turned against anything that he was told to do. Everyone who was not them was not to be trusted. 

 

Kieren's life was in his hands once, twice, forever now.

 

"I will not let them take you," he says finally and knows it's true.

 

Kieren's hand is on his wrist and he nods.

 

II.

 

It is France after that. France, because it is not England. France, because Simon knows that is where Kieren's heart had decided on before everything else. France, because it's not Roarton. Because Roarton isn't safe. It's France, because it has to be. They have to leave.

 

The goodbyes are brief and hard. Simon feels responsible for the way that Kieren's parents look at him from the end of the drive when they turn and walk away. Simon doesn't apologize or offer an apology to Kieren for it. He knows if he did Kieren would tell him to stow it. He does not want to be told to keep his apology to himself so he does not offer it.

 

Simon knows of a member of the ULA who will smuggle them across the channel and is thankful for his discretion in their crossing. He is charging an exorbitantamount for the boat ride, significantly whittling down the money he and Kieren had gathered. He wonders if this man has heard of his betrayal or not. He wonders if he will give them up when the news eventually reaches him. 

 

Simon does not share his doubts with Kieren, even when they step off the boat and hike their way to a village. They hitchhike from there to another village where they see an apartment with the words _PDS Friendly_ in French on a hand written sign.

 

Simon rents it.

 

The sun ebbs through the open window of their rented flat, illuminating Kieren's silhouette. Simon thinks of the curved neck of a wine bottle, the comforting arch of a lover's back, the pale freckles that Kieren has on his shoulders.

 

"It's going to rain," Kieren observes as he turns. Simon is on top of him already, kissing him hard as the first roll of thunder comes in and washes over their bodies. Simon feels so small near Kieren. It is as if Kieren's voice is thunder rolling by, his touch a strike of lightening. 

 

Simon does not feel undignified or empty when he is with Kieren. 

 

III.

 

Simon knows something is wrong when he sees Kieren's hand trembling as he goes to grab his jeans off of the floor. He studies Kieren, even as he fights the urge to look down at his own hands, instead watching Kieren shake it out. The twitch is gone then, and Simon does not say that he was noticing or watching. Instead, he begs him back to bed. To waste the day with him, because he does not know how much longer they have.

 

A week later, changing their sheets, he finds black blood smeared on Kieren's pillowcase. He pushes the bathroom door open without knocking and finds Kieren there, head back and exposing the smooth, beautiful arch of his throat. He's holding the bridge of his nose and looking at Simon with his eyebrows up, surprised.

 

Simon tries not to be distracted.

 

"How long's this been going on, then?" he demands holding the stained pillowcase in his fist.

 

"It's just happened," Kieren replies evenly, and Simon chews his bottom lip for a minute, watching as Kieren finally rights himself and cleans off his face. He washes his hands. His body language says he does not want to discuss it. Simon knows he cannot pry the words from him.

 

"You all right?" Simon murmurs as he watches the black blood swirl with the water in the sink. His fist is loser on the fabric now, almost falling from his hand. He feels very helpless suddenly. A few weeks ago he was killing another man with a lamp, completely in control of everything. Now, he feels so small. 

 

"Yeah," Kieren says quietly as he brushes by, trailing a hand over Simon's stomach.

 

IV.

 

If Kieren is embarrassed, he will not admit it. If he is blushing under all that reanimated skin, Simon cannot see it. Simon touches him with a foot and receives a splash in return. They both fit easily into the claw foot bathtub their apartment has. They sit one at each end of the tub, legs tangling in water so hot it emits steam from the surface. They cannot feel it but the visual effect is stimulating. 

 

Kieren lifts one of Simon's feet up and rubs it with soap and water, cleaning the arch, between the toes. Simon suddenly feels very self conscious and attempts to pull his foot from the other man's grip. 

 

Kieren is having none of it though, and continues to rub the soap over the top of his foot, and all the way back to his heel. His grip on Simon's ankle is tight as he lavishes a gentle scrub on him. He switches to the other foot when he has finished the first, and Simon cannot bring himself to stop him from finishing with the work he has started.

 

_It's happening again_ , Simon thinks as he watches Kieren across from him. 

 

Simon pulls away from Kieren's grip and moves across the bathtub in one motion. Water splashes over the edge of the tub and onto the wooden floor as he comes to a stop, his chest pressed flush to Kieren's. He noses his way across Kieren's jaw and chin before he kisses him fully on the mouth.

 

He thinks, _I cannot sell you for silver_ , as he tangles his fingers in Kieren's copper hair.

 

V.

 

One day, Kieren's stitches fall out of his wrists. He panics, showing his wrists to Simon and trying to express in words how strange this all is. How strange and unrecognizable he has become to himself, just when he was finally accepting every aspect of his life. Simon calms him as well as he can when he sees the now even, pale skin where the gashes used to be. 

 

Kieren sits on the toilet in the bathroom, arms resting on his thighs. Simon bends down to look at him, running his thumbs over the smooth skin and wondering, too, just what has become of his tragic boy.

 

"What's happening to me?" Kieren begs for answers, his voice cracking from emotion, and Simon cannot find any to give him. Simon curls his fingers around Kieren's hands, holds them for a long time and presses his forehead to Kieren's until he's calm again. 

 

Simon cannot say anything to explain why Kieren's body is changing. He cannot speak the words: _oh, oh, oh, my love, I cannot say_.

 

Instead, he kisses Kieren's lips and punctuates each kiss with the words, "You're fine, you're fine, you're fine."

 

VI.

 

Simon wakes to Kieren standing next to the bed. He rubs his face against his pillow and looks up at him blearily. Kieren is holding a pad of paper and a pencil, illustrating. The light from the window is filtering in and over his hair, illuminating the copper edges like a halo. He is biting his tongue a little as he sketches, focusing with his brow knit in concentration. 

 

"Am I ruining it?" Simon asks without moving.

 

"Only if you get up," Kieren says and smirks at Simon, pencil moving around the paper gracefully. Simon had always known Kieren was an artist but he had never actually seen him draw. Though, he knew his Van Gogh inspired style well. It had decorated his parents home. It had been the image of Amy he'd left in her grave site. Amy had even once referred to him as "My best fried Kieren, he's an artist."

 

"I was thinking we should go to Germany next."

 

"Interesting thought," Simon says as his eyes fall closed again, nuzzling into his pillow comfortably, content to let Kieren draw him until his heart is satisfied.

 

He hears the thump too late, but he's up and immediately by Kieren's side, trying to still his convulsing body. Kieren's eyes have rolled back in his head and he is shaking. There is nothing he can do but wait until the seizure passes. It's only a moment but to Simon it feels like years, lifetimes. He whispers Kieren's name when he finally settles and waits for him to come around again. Simon fears that soon Kieren will no longer be able to fight whatever he is becoming. They have not even made it through half of the Neurotriptyline that Kieren had stockpiled for his original trip. Simon fears that the medicine is no longer working for Kieren.

 

When Kieren comes out of it he is completely dazed, bleary eyed and confused. There is a line of black blood from his nose to his lips. 

 

Simon pushes his hair to the side and touches his face. It feels like that moment in the graveyard again. Simon smiles at him,"There he is."

 

Simon fears he is losing him now, after he's worked so hard to keep him safe. How can he being turning back now, after all the fight he's given? 

 

When he stands Kieren up again he looks so tired and, for the first time, Simon notices the bruises on his arms.

 

VII.

 

It is storming again when Kieren says it. The rain is hitting their window with soft pitter patters and the sky is that dismal dark grey. Kieren is resting against the sill, breathing against the cool glass of the window and watching as his cold breath does nothing to it. Simon is reading on the bed, passing the time.

 

"I could eat a fucking horse."

 

Simon studies him for a long time, wondering, amazed (as usual).

 

"We don't eat, love," he manages to say through a slight laugh. Earlier that day Simon had received a call from an informant about the ULA looking for them. He is considering Kieren's suggestion of Germany more seriously now, trying to figure out how to get them on a train with no passports. 

 

"I know that," Kieren says, giving him a long look, "but I could."

 

"I know," Simon agrees, although he does not, cannot, understand. He simply nods and accepts. "I know."

 

VII.

 

Simon traces the bridge of Kieren's nose in bed. He traces the long line of his bridge, the nostrils and over his cheeks until he happens upon a pale mole. He traces his finger around it, slingshotting around the satellite of it and back to his lips again.

 

Kieren's eyebrows furrow and he twitches his nose. 

 

"That tickles," he says and Simon's finger stops half way through it's flight path on his face.

 

"Tickles?"

 

Kieren opens his eyes and looks at him for a long time. Somehow the whites of his eyes are dimming, turning into a muddy color that he cannot describe. Simon feels something like what he would have labeled the feeling of his stomach jumping into his throat.

 

The angels have come to the tomb.

 

_Why do you look for the living among the dead?_

 

IX.

 

They are walking side by side in the village market when it happens. 

 

Kieren's hand finds his arm and he looks as if he's been struck. A vendor asks if he's alright and then asks if he's gone rabid. Simon cannot help but shoot the man a glare. Simon holds Kieren tightly, steadying him with his hands on his shoulder, his waist. The fear is back again, choking him with bile. Is Kieren turning back? _Is_ he turning rabid right now? 

 

Kieren does right himself eventually, looking glassy eyed and far off though. 

 

"Are you all right?" Simon asks once and then again. He touches his face and neck, checking him over for something, anything, to explain why he is changing right before his eyes.

 

"'m all right," Kieren murmurs but he does not fight Simon's hands on him, guiding him back the way they had come. Simon does not think about anything but the journey back to their rented flat and how Kieren has a very strange look on his face for the entirety of it. 

 

They do not speak when they get there. Kieren rests on the bed, laying on his side and staring out the open window over the darkening village skyline. Simon finds himself keeping his distance, hedging physically as he gazes at the boy across the dim room from him. 

 

It is complete dark when Simon finally slides into the bed next to him. He wraps and arm around Kieren's waist and kisses him behind his ear. He is surprised when Kieren's hand covers his own and he directs Simon to press his palm flat against his breast. There, he can feel the thrum, thrum, thrum of something living. Simon cannot even fathom what this means.

 

"Are you afraid?” he whispers in the dark room, and it sounds so loud to him.

 

"Yes," Kieren replies, calmly.

 

X.

 

Simon has never thought about fighting with Kieren, but he is fighting with him now. Wondering if he's supposed to be doing this anymore. Maybe he has fulfilled some sort of prophecy. He wonders what his tarot spread would tell if it were to be read right at this moment. He feels like the eight of swords, confined in a prison of his own making.

 

A week ago, Kieren's heart began beating a furious tattoo against his chest. Then, like Amy, his blood turned red and started moving through his veins, making him pink and warm and full of life. A freshly bloomed rose. He is becoming, once again, reborn. Simon is feeling resentful and isolated by the potential of Kieren's new life, the warmth spreading through every bit of him. He has been taking the drugs longer than anyone. He yearns to feel now that he has someone to touch, to be close to. 

 

Before, there was no one he could feel for, yet somehow Kieren had drawn him in. The curve of his mouth, the arch of his back and his big, soft eyes. Who could possibly resist? Simon had convinced himself that there was nothing as important as this boy. Now, he feels unnecessary and useless. Kieren was the first risen, but now he is not one of them. He is a living boy.

 

In the bible the Lord reveals himself to the disciple Simon when he has resurrected.

 

Simon knows that he should be happy. That this is a new gift for Kieren -- it must have been for Amy, too, if her blood was beating red and strong before her death. Yet he cannot bring himself to not feel alone and betrayed, emotions he is more than well acquainted with. The people he loves are never like him.

 

"I don't know why you're angry,” Kieren says, and he is genuinely confused and hurt and isolated in his own way now. 

 

"I'm not," Simon says, lies, but he does not turn around to meet Kieren's gaze. He stands and collects his coat before he goes to the doorway. His hand is on the knob. The swell of anger he feels is not directed toward Kieren, but at the unfair circumstances of his change. He is angry at Kieren's pulse and his heart. He is angry that he still cannot fully feel the scrape of nails along his skin or the way Kieren's legs tangle against his own.

 

"Will you be back this time?" Kieren asks, and Simon feels the sting of it. He turns to yell but cannot bring himself to shout Kieren down now. Cannot bring himself to yell at this boy who is so scared and so new all of the sudden.

 

Instead, he crosses the room easily and lifts Kieren's face into a kiss that strikes the breath from the boy's lungs. Kieren does not fight it, does not shy away. He allows himself to be pulled in, hands grasping Simon's jumper as he kisses him back.

 

They are a flurry in moments, arms and legs and Kieren's heart beating fast and hard. The boy’s lips are pink, and his tongue comes out to lick them, leaving them shiny and wet. Simon remembers the cursed way he felt in front of boys, when he was thirteen and alone in his bedroom with a schoolmate. But this is not like that, no. Kieren's body is warm and supple beneath his sweater, under cold palms. He moans, a vulnerable, needy sound, in Simon’s arms even as he brings him to the bed. 

 

Simon knows that he is completely unable to do anything but it will not stop him from being with Kieren, who shimmies out of his jeans like he was born to do it. Simon pulls his boxers off and already he finds Kieren's cock hard, head glistening. Genuine anticipation. Kieren is blushing from where he is laying supplicant beneath Simon, breathing soft, warm little breaths. 

 

He is a sublime machine, with a thrumming pulse, crying out for attention.

 

Simon does not stop. He does not hesitate or pause. He is undead, and he is hungry. 

 

Simon devours him.

 


End file.
